


Athchóiriú Iomlán

by Sammy_McCallister



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:12:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_McCallister/pseuds/Sammy_McCallister
Summary: Weeks after his passing, Miranda Priestly are in the midst of the Lagerfeld tribute, a crisis arises that forces Miranda to meet a woman related to her past in a unexpected way. How will she react to the reappearance of a family she has since long forgotten?





	1. Chapter 1

“Emily.” Miranda called out from her office.

 

When no one appeared, she called again, “Emily.”

 

“She means you.” Emily Charlotte said monotonously as she continued to correct Miranda’s schedule after the run through was pushed up again.

 

The other Emily, whose name was actually Heather, stood quickly and rushed towards the open office door with notepad in hand.

 

“Yes, Miranda?” Heather questioned unsteadily.

 

“Why must I call you repeatedly in order for you to do your job?” Miranda queried offhandedly before continuing without waiting for an answer, “Has the vintage Lagerfeld dress been delivered? It needs to be ready for the cover shoot on Tuesday. The article with Valentino needs to be completely redone and the writer of the one submitted needs to be fired immediately. The girls are returning this afternoon and will need to be collected from this train station along with Patricia. Tell Stephen I will not meet with him again. The divorce has been final for over a year and I refuse to be bothered with any more of his pathetic attempts to reconcile since he has blown through his wealth.”

 

Heather worked furiously to jot down everything before replying, “The Lagerfeld is being delivered by courier this afternoon and should be here before the run through at 11 am. Roy has been informed and will be at Grand Central to retrieve the twins and Patricia at 2 pm before returning in time for the meeting with the new freelance writer from the New Yorker piece. All calls from Stephen will be forwarded.”

 

Miranda just glanced at the new girl and waved a hand away in dismissal. This may be the one to allow Emily to move to the art department; She’s certainly earned her stripes this year.

 

Miranda turned her chair towards the window in thought. This past year had been a headache, but not without its rewards. Upon the divorce being announced, her precious daughters expressed their delight in seeing the back of their former stepfather. Apparently, her Bobbseys needed no one else aside from their Mum; They just needed her to be more present.

 

Miranda has worked tirelessly over the past year to give them the stability they voiced with the help of their newest therapist. It was very rare for her to miss dinner with the girls or an important school event.

 

Irv was finally fired after his embezzlement was revealed following the Paris debacle and Diane was proving to be a true ally in continuing to create her vision for Runway.

 

All in all, there wasn’t much Miranda could complain about and yet, there felt like something was missing.

 

Miranda’s thought were broken by a screeching in the outer office. Turning, she saw both Emily’s gesturing to the black bag that had been delivered, but the courier was long gone.

 

Standing, Miranda made her way toward her doorway.

 

“What is causing such hysteria? Honestly, do you not have enough to do? If that’s the case, I can surely find something else.” Miranda commented from behind both women.

 

Without hesitation, they moved to block the view of the dress and turned to face Miranda.

 

Neither spoke for a few minutes.

 

“Well?” Miranda prompts when no answer is forthcoming.

 

The two women before her said nothing still. Before Miranda could prompt them again, Nigel arrived in preparation for the run through. He paused upon seeing all the women in the outer office. Rather than comment, he turned his attention to the piece that was to be the centerpiece of this month's issue.

 

“Oh my Goddess! No!” He exclaimed after seeing the dress.

 

Miranda having enough of their antics, walked over to the dress and was struck speechless.

 

The black 1980 dramatic lace cutout dress that Jennifer Lawrence was to wear in the cover shoot in just four days had been delivered, but had white stains that were covering several areas on the bottom, back and sleeve of the dress.

 

It was unbelievable. Never had a dress been delivered in such a state. The restoration specialist employees by Runway had never been tasked with something like this. Vintage and lace were difficult to treat, Miranda knew from experience.

 

Taking a deep breathe, “Find me the best restoration expert in the city. Everything else is to put on hold. Get the Lagerfeld estate on the phone and find out where this dress was stored prior to it being provided to the courier and what state it was in and get the courier who delivered this back in here now.” Miranda stated in a deadly whisper before moving back into her office.

 

Simultaneously, the three employees jumped into action. Nigel was on his cellphone, reaching out to every contact he had trying to find a restoration artist. Emily was speaking with the horrified representative from the Lagerfeld estate and Heather was tracking down the courier.

 

With an hour, they each walked into Miranda’s office with a necessary piece of information that would hopefully keep them from paying the price of whoever had damaged the centerpiece.

 

“Well …” Miranda prompted.

 

Having decided beforehand that the solution was the most important thing to disclose first.

 

Nigel placed a sheet of paper on Miranda’s desk with the name and address of the studio as well as the name of the restoration artist.

 

Knowing from experience, less is more in this situation, Nigel simply said, “Athchóiriú Iomlán.”

 

Miranda simply raised an eyebrow in lieu of a request for further explanation.

 

“It means Total Restoration: the owner and artist is Andrea Sachs.From what I’ve been able to gather, her family has owned the business since the early 50s and she is considered the best restoration artist, not just in the city, but in the country. If there is a hope for this be corrected, she is who can make it happen.” Nigel supplied before taking a step back and clasping his hands.

 

Miranda simply took the piece of paper, stood and asked, “Is Roy downstairs?”

 

“Yes, Miranda.” Both Emily and Heather replied.

 

“Coat and bag.” She stated as she walked past them towards the elevator.

 

“Come along, Nigel and put that back in the bag before anyone else sees it. Emily, tell the girls that I may be late tonight. If this Andréa is as good as I hope she is, that won’t be necessary, but in case she is not, well.” Miranda stated as she took the coat and bag offered and made it to the elevator as the doors opened.

 

Nodding her head, Nigel joined her.

 

As the elevator began its descent, she simply closed her eyes and took another deep breathe.

 

“I know, my friend. I thought it myself.”  Nigel commented upon seeing her expression.

 

The grief of his passing and now this was taking a true toll on his friend of over 40 years. It was still a shock to him, but the dress would hopefully, willfully if could, be restored and the tribute issue would be one of the greatest issues to hit the stands in just two weeks time.

 

No other word were said as they reached the lobby and made it to the Mercedes. Nigel hung the garment bag and provided Roy with the address. Anyone traveling with Miranda knew, that nothing was discussed unless Miranda initiated it. Today more than ever, seemed like the silence was required.

 

Miranda looked out the window and began to think of contingencies just in case this dress wouldn’t be able to be fixed in time. She hadn’t taken a good enough look at the damage to see if the stains were new or old. That one detail would make all the difference in whether it could be salvaged. 

 

Fortunately, before Miranda could become frustrated about being forced into inactivity long, Roy pulled to the curbside before a building on a quiet street on the upper West Side. Looking at the seemingly nondescript building. It was clearly an older building, but was well kept, Miranda asked, “Are you certain this the correct location?”

 

“Absolutely.” Nigel replied as he took the garment bag and walked to a buzzer. After pressing, a voice called, “Can I help you?”

 

“Yes, is this Athchóiriú Iomlán?” Nigel asked as he held the intercom button.

 

“It is. Who is asking?” the voice confirmed.

 

“Nigel Kipling. I work with Runway.” Nigel replied.

 

Rather than any additional questions, the buzzer sounded and the door was unlocked.

 

Nigel glanced at Miranda and held open the door.

 

The pair made it through the door and were instantly within the floor room of what appeared to be a gallery. On the second floor, a young woman called out, “Come on up, Mr. Kipling.”

 

Walking up to the second floor, Miranda and Nigel found a young woman, dressed in a well-made tailored suit with the jacket off and the sleeves rolled up leaning over a table. She appeared to be wearing magnifying glasses with a swab in one hand and bottle of some sort of solution in another.

 

“Don’t be afraid to come closer. I just ask that you touch absolutely nothing.” The woman asked from her position.

 

“Ms. Sach?” Nigel queried.

 

“Andy, please. I do apologize for not shaking your hand, Mr. Kipling. This solution is bit time sensitive. I have to neutralize it in order for this restoration to progress properly.”  Andy replied. “I believe I was told you have a bit of a time sensitive situation of your own.

 

Minda pursed her lips at such a ridiculous nickname being used for what appeared a very well dressed young woman.

 

“It is, yes. We’ve just received a piece that is be used in a shoot in four days, but, well, I think it’s something you should see for yourself.” Nigel suggested.

 

“Sure. If you want, you can just take a seat in the corner, I’ll be with you as quickly as possible.” Andy stated and gestured to the corner where there was a small seating area offhandedly.

 

Miranda and Nigel made their way to the seating area and found that they could still see the young woman. Miranda was curious as to how this woman, who couldn’t be more than 25 was the best restoration expert in the city, or country as Nigel claimed. However, Miranda understood the artistry behind such work so she held off her instinct to ask questions.

 

After about 15 minutes, Andy stood from her position and stretched to work out the pain in her back. Looking towards her guest for the first time, she realized Mr. Kipling was not her only visitor. Andy was uncomfortable knowing this woman had been silently watching her all this time.

 

Walking towards her guests, she extended a hand and stated, “I do apologize for that. Usually, I try to avoid having anyone over while I am working on such pieces as it does not lend to my focus on anything else.” Shaking Nigel’s hand first, before turning to his guest and seemingly for the first time. The hand that had been extended dropped before Andy could control her reaction.

 

Standing slightly straighter, Andy grasped her hands behind her back and nodded at the woman who she had heard about growing up and since moving to New York, her name was everywhere.

 

“Miranda Priestly. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Andy said sincerely.

 

Miranda was struck at the sincerity in her voice. Tilting her head slightly, Miranda took a closer look at the woman before her and questioned, “Again? Have we met before?”

 

Andy smiled and replied, “You could say we’ve met many times.”


	2. Chapter 2

The look of confusion on Miranda’s face was enough to make Andy laugh, but she was able to control that impulse. From what she remembered, Miranda Priestly was not a woman who enjoyed being made a fun of; So before Miranda could question her further, Andy reached forward and took the garment bag that was hanging near Mr. Kipling.

Upon opening the bag, Andy gasped and muttered, “Tragic, but not irreparable.”

“You can fix it?” Miranda and Mr. Kipling asked in unison.

“Of course I can. Who do you think you came to see, Mr. Kipling? You wouldn’t be here if you haven’t heard of my work.” Andy replied confidently.

Miranda merely pursed her lips at the attitude displayed. After years of working with designs, she knew all too well about the arrogance that could and would be perpetrated if left unchecked.

“Is that so? As you were advised, this is a time sensitive issue. This dress is needed in immaculate condition as it once was in just four days time.” Miranda challenged.

“I was told and it will be. You will pay for the expediency, but it will be returned to its former glory.” Andy replied with as much confidence as her previous words.

A single raised eyebrow was all that provided from Miranda.

Sensing the direction this was taken, Nigel stepped forward and stated, “I understand you have other matters to attend to.” while gesturing to the workstation Andy had earlier occupied, “We are willing to pay for the very best so that is gown is restored not just as quickly as possible, but so that it done correctly.” He finished.

Nodding, Andy took that garment bag and turned towards another staircase, “Follow me, please. I complete garment restoration on the third floor.”

Miranda and Nigel followed the young restoration artist up the flight of stairs and were greeted with a similar, but drastically different environment from the second floor.

The two took in their new surrounding from the top of the landing; There were multiple workstations that were set up across the third floor, but there was no seating area. It was clear this was typically a work only area. Along the farthest wall, there was a deep tub with multiple dividers and faucets. On the walls on either end, were floor to ceiling shelves with an assortment of cleaning products, towels, brushes and swabs.

Andy walked towards a workstation in the center of the room and laid the dress onto the top. She flipped a switch, a low light began to shine from the surface. Miranda and Nigel walked over as she began to look into a drawer attached to the table. As they reached her, Nigel noticed Andy had selected a scalpel like tool, a swab. Setting the items down, she reached into a deeper drawer and pulled out another bottle of a some sort of solution and a pair of gloves.

As Andy put on the gloves, she inspected the dress and asked, “This dress was made in what year?”

“1980.” Miranda answered.

Andy merely hummed as the answered confirmed her own mental guess.

She reached for the sleeve that was stained and spread it to all as much light as possible to shine through. Miranda and Nigel observed Andy inspect the first stain on the sleeve, she begins to mutter aloud, “Solvent based stain. Several years old by the way it has hardened. Polyester fabric.” She moved and leaned over the stain on the bottom of the dress and continued to, “Detergent solution and ammonia definitely necessary.” She turned it over and inspected the stain that had gotten on the back, “Repeat treatments would be a must before moving onto any violent type solvents.”

Standing, Andy removed her gloves and looked at her guest, “It’ll be difficult, but you will have it in time for your shoot. I’ll give your office a call when it is ready.”

She began to move her guests towards the staircase, ready to get them gone so that she may begin on her new project. Miranda was not used to being dismissed and almost began to protest, but as she turned towards Andy, a photo on the wall right near her head, caught her attention and she stopped in her tracks.

Tentatively raising her hand, Miranda touched the edge of the frame and was shocked to see an image of her younger self and one of the dearest people from her past standing with her hands on the shoulders of a much younger Andrea Sachs.

“Orla?” Miranda whispered.

“You do remember.” Andy stated as she leaned against the banister.

“Of course I do. I was devastated when she passed away.” Miranda answered as she turned to look at Andréa in a new light. Remembering the raven haired, high spirited girl who ran alongside her older sister, Orla Long.

Orla had been Miranda’s first friend when she arrived from London for university. She had been the only one who reached out to quiet girl with an odd accent on the first day at Columbia. Ensuring Miranda was able to navigate the city and making her feel at home with her family. Recalling the small family unit, she remembered them fondly. Orla and Andréa were well loved by the adults in their life. Orla’s great grandfather, Nevan, her grandmother, Ileen, and their mother, Dara.

They had all welcomed her in with open arms.

Miranda remembered speaking with Ileen at length about fashion. The older woman would regal her with tales of restoration work that her family had been apart of.

Alas, like all things that had been the case with Miranda’s life. Tragedy struck and she lost the one person who had become her family since her own family had been taken from her.

Orla had been killed in a mugging their senior year. Miranda had been distraught and then became focused on completing the goal she and Orla shared: Graduating at the top of their class and taking the world in their prospective careers by storm. After the funeral, despite their best efforts, the Long family became a reminder of the loss of her closest friend and the time that had been spent together dwindled into nonexistent.

Miranda had begun as at Vogue, of all places, in their beauty department. Working longer and longer hours, until she was able to work her way up to Assistant Editor in Chief and when she was passed over for EIC, she made the lateral move to Runway and never looked back.

A cell phone rang pulling Miranda from her memories.

Looking down the stairs, she saw Nigel speaking on his phone.

Focusing back on Andréa, Miranda stated, “You’ve grown quite a bit.”

Throwing her head back, Andy laughed and replied, “Yeah, I guess I have. Then again, I think I had just turned five the last time we saw each other. If not the pictures of you all over Orla’s bedroom, I don’t think I retain any memory of you past your eyes.” Looking into Miranda’s eyes, Andy continued, “They are as blue and beautiful as I remember though.”

The comment was so unexpected, Miranda felt the blood rush to her cheeks and knew her blush was visible when Andréa looked pleased.

Luckily for Miranda, prior to her being able to comment on it, Nigel called from his place after ending his call, “Miranda. We must get back to Runway. The freelancer has shown up at the office and is causing quite the scene due to you not being there awaiting him.”

“I’m sorry?” Miranda questioned darkly.

“I know. Believe me, I know, but he is refusing to leave and Heather is moments for calling security and the police because he is apparently being very belligerent.” Nigel quickly explained.

Miranda pursed her lips and turned to Andréa, “I do apologize, but I must go deal with this and I know you have a large undertaking to get to.”

“Of course. I’ll see you out.” Andy stated and gestured for Miranda to proceed first.

Moving through the studio, Andy lead Miranda and Mr. Kipling outside and to the waiting car at the curbside.

“I shall speak with you soon, Andréa. We have a wealth of details to work out, professionally and personally.” Miranda stated without waiting for a reply and climbing into the back of the Mercedes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just wanted to say, three updates in two days is not typical for me. This story will generally be updated at the end of the week, but I hope you all enjoy.

As Roy pulled away from the curb, Nigel watched Miranda looking outside as Roy began to navigate them back to the Elias-Clark building.

 

Halfway back to office, Nigel asked, “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

 

Miranda merely glanced at him before turning and continued to look out the window reflecting on her unexpected trip down memory lane and answered simply, “No.”

 

Nigel chuckled as he wasn’t his elusive friend to reveal anything from the past before he meet her all those years ago when they started at Runway together.

 

As the car made its way to the Elias-Clark building, Miranda exited the car quickly. Entering the building, the models that were near the elevator quickly move away. Miranda enters the elevator as it opens without hesitation.

 

The elevator doors open onto the 12th floor and Miranda is instantly greeted with the raised voice of her prospective freelance writer, Christian Thompson.

 

Thus far her presence has been undetected by the rowdy writer so she has time to hear what he is yelling at her assistants.

 

“Does she not know who I am? I don’t care what time our appointment was. Miranda Priestly should be ready and waiting to see me whenever I decide I am ready.” Christian yelled at Emily.

 

“I don’t know who you’ve been conducting business with, Mr. Thompson, but I am very busy woman. If I schedule an appointment with you at 3:45 pm, it is because that is the time I am free to meet with you. I do not sit around and wait for anyone I can have an appointment with. If and when we have an meeting, I expect that you be on time for it not that you are there all day waiting for me.” Miranda stated as she moved towards her office. Walking past her assistants and Christian, she continued. “Given your behavior, however, I can say that we will not be using your services at Runway. You may leave or I can have our security escort you out.”

 

Miranda sat at her desk and watched as Christian was escorted out by security still yelling about his importance. She would be sure to send a memoranda out regarding his behavior to a few key editors.

 

“Emily, what was the response from the Lagerfeld estate? From Andréa’s assessment, the stain is several years old. The courier may leave and make sure he is compensated for his delay.” Miranda inquired and instructed as she saw another young man sitting near the reception.

 

“The representative stated they were under the impression that the cleaning had taken place and no one checked before it was sent to the courier. They are accepting responsibility and request the invoice for any restoration be sent to them.” Emily replied as the other Emily went to dismiss the courier.

 

Miranda huffed at the incompetence, but knew she would have to deal with it. Deciding she would deal with the headaches as they came regarding the Lagerfeld people. 

 

Opening her email, Miranda continued, “Very well. Make sure we have the information for where the billing can be sent and we make sure that it is not overlooked. Andréa stated she would be able to restore the gown so everything can proceed. Let the girls know I will be home on time and get editorial on the line.”

 

Emily moved to do Miranda’s bidding and stated, “I have editorial.”

 

Miranda picked up her phone and stated, “I need a new writer for the Valentino piece. I want your top three people to do a write from the interview and drafts by next Wednesday. I expect the pieces submitted to be ready to print articles.”

 

Miranda hung up before any additional comments could be made.

 

On the upper West Side, Andy was busy pretreating the gown for the cleaning.

 

Letting the pretreatment set properly, is one of the most crucial parts of the restoration process. Setting up a timer, Andy moved back to the second floor and towards the painting she was in the process of restoring for the V&A museum of London. 

 

One of the benefits of her work, was that it was a routine. Each individual piece is unique and poses its own challenges, but the restoration process was science to Andy. This was an asset on days like today. Miranda Priestly was a piece of her past that she could never hope to recover.

 

Orla had been a touchstone in her life for as long as she could remember. As a child, Orla was her biggest role model. Having been an unexpected arrival in her mother’s life, Orla was already 17 years old and a junior in high school when Andy came along.

 

Growing up, her mother and her great grandfather were all involved with Athchóiriú Iomlán so Orla had not only been her big sister, but became the person who looked after her the most. Things changed slightly when she graduated high school. Her mother became a lot more present, but even when Orla began at Columbia, she never made Andy feel like she wasn’t a priority.

 

Quite the contrary in fact, Orla and then Miranda treated her like a baby doll. When they weren’t in class, so much of their time was spent with the two year, that she felt so loved. The years the three spent together were some of the best Andy could remember. The death of Orla was really the loss of two people because Miranda didn’t seem to come around often and then one day Andy woke up and realized they were both gone.

 

A few years later, her great grandfather passed. Her mother and grandmother seemed to hold onto Andy tighter than ever. She was from that point on, little eight year old was raised in the restoration house. Learning the business, understanding and coming to love fashion and her own sense of self. Due to the loss, Andy and mother were able to develop a bond unlike any she could honestly say would have been had they not suffered as they had.

 

In high school, Andy began to understand that she was different. When all of her friends were talking about the boys they wanted to kiss, Andy could only think about what it would be like to kiss her best friend, Lily. Thankfully, growing up in the city, Ileen and Dora were very accepting of the confusing feelings that she expressed to them. When she told Lily, however, she wasn’t and high school became a nightmare. 

 

A loud buzzing, gratefully, pulled her from her thoughts and Andy made her way back to the third floor to work on Miranda’s dress.

 

On the 12th floor of the Elias-Clark building, Heather stood and made her way into Miranda’s office.

 

Hesitating long enough to draw Miranda’s attention from the contact sheets, “Did I call you, Emily?”

 

“No, Miranda, but I wanted to remind you of the time. Roy is going to be headed towards Grand Central. I know you sometimes like to be there when the girls get back into town.” Heather explained nervously.

 

Glancing at the time, Miranda began to pack the work on her desk and stated, “Coat and bag. I’ll work from home the rest of the day.”

 

“Of course, Miranda.” Heather stated as she turned to gather Miranda’s things.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know it's been a few months, but hopefully you guys are still with me. I hope you like the update. If not, let me know why.
> 
> R&R!
> 
> -Sammy

 

* * *

Making her way through Grand Central, Miranda checked her cell phone to confirm the platform for the incoming train.

Arriving just in time to see the train come to stop, Miranda placed her phone into her bag and waited for her girls to depart. The flash of red hair had a rarely seen smile blossoming on Miranda's face.

"Mom!" She heads before she was entangled within the arms of both her Bobbseys.

Kneeling, she hugged them closely and placed a kiss on the crown of both vibrant redheads before pulling away and standing up straight.

"Hello, my darlings. Did you have a nice time at your father's?" Miranda asked as she took each of their small hands and began to make her way out of Grand Central. Roy following behind with their bags and Patricia.

"It was okay. He has a new girlfriend." Caroline replied.

Miranda hummed at the news; Her ex-husband seemed to be going through something. Each year he got older, his choice in girlfriends got younger. Not one of them seemed to last more than a year.

Not sure what to make of it, she simply replied, "That's good, dear."

Making it to the waiting car, Miranda helped both her girls into their seats and climbed in.

As Roy navigated through traffic back towards the townhouse, I listened to the twins as the continued to begin and finish each other's sentences about their week away. Usually Miranda would be completely enameled with everything that the two four-year olds regaled, but today, her thoughts were centered on Andréa and Orla.

Two people who she had spared no more than a few spare moments unintentionally over the last 30 years, but seeing the photo of the three of them … It was stuck in her mind.

As if sensing something different, Cassidy asked, "Is you okay, Mum?"

"Are." Miranda corrected automatically and continued, "I'm alright, Bobbsey. Mummy is just thinking about her day."

"Was it a good day, Mum?" Caroline asked softly.

"It was a bit weird, but not good or bad." Miranda answered honestly.

"Why weird?" the girls asked together.

Miranda laughed lightly and was about to answer when Roy parked in front of the townhouse.

The twins and their bags were unloaded and lead quickly into the house.

Immediately the girls and Patricia took off into their den, clearly glad to be home.

Roy passed the bags to Cara and they were taken upstairs.

"Good night, Ms. Priestly." Roy stated as he made his way to the door.

"You as well, Roy. Thank you." Miranda answered before making her way to her study.

As she entered, she looked at one of the bookcases and a picture on one of the top shelves. Moving forward, Miranda took down the frame and went to sit on her sofa.

Staring down, she looked at a candid picture she'd taken of Orla and Andréa laughing. The picture was developed in black and white, but it only added to the contrast of the two young women.

"Who are they?" Cassidy asked.

Looking up, Miranda was surprised to see both her girls and Patricia around her.

"Orla and Andréa: Mummy knew them when she first came to New York." Miranda answered as the twins settled against her to look at the picture more closely.

"They're really pretty, Mum." Caroline said.

"Why do you still have their pictures? Are you still close?" Cassidy asked as she looked at her Mum.

"I have their picture because Mummy still cares about them, but we're not close. You see this little one?" Miranda stated as she pointed to Andrea and continued, "Mummy saw her again today for the first time in twenty-two years."

"Is that a long time?" "Why haven't you seen them, Mummy?" the twins asked at the same time.

"That is a long time, Bobbsey. I haven't seen them because the other girl was my very best friend and she was killed so it hurt to be around her family." Miranda answered honestly.

Miranda was always honest with her girls and after the loss of their paternal grandfather a few years ago, they understood death.

The girls were having one of their silent conversations as Miranda looked down at the physical reminder of her past.

There had been multiple times something important had happened and she'd thought of these two. The days after her pregnancy was discovered that she'd think and imagine if her child would be as open and free as Andrea had been. If Orla would have been as great an aunt as she were a friend and sister.

If Andrea would grow up to be like the sister, she'd lost too soon.

"Can we meet her?" Cassidy asked quietly.

There was little her girls had asked for that she couldn't, no, wouldn't provide. This was something in her power to do, but the question was did she want to.

"Well, girls..."

Andy POV

As I was moving around the shop to put away different solutions, I made my way up to the garment floor and saw the discoloration of the water from where the gown that dragged Miranda back into my life had been soaking.

Walking over to the bay, I pushed one of the four buttons connected to this bay and the rack holding the dress began to rise.

Allowing it to hang above the sink, I pressed another, and the liquid began to drain out.

Reaching on, I pulled on a pair of gloves and looked to the end of the dress where the worst of the stain had been.

The solution it had been soaking in did its job and the majority of the paint was removed. There was a slight discoloration where the paint had been for so long. I knew I'd have to soak it again, but I decided to do some spot treatment while it was still wet.

Lowering it slightly, I moved back to the light take it had been originally on and found a powder that my grandfather had created just for these types of stains.

Moving back to the sink bay, I sprinkled the powder lightly on the bottom of the dress and then up to the sleeves. Due to the wet fabric, the powder was able to set into the remaining stain. Carefully turning the dress over, I applied the solution to the back and pulled the gloves free.

I set another timer and moved back down to the second floor. I walked to the farthest worktable and looked at the progress on the V and A Museum piece. I would send an email to the London team so that were up to date on the progress.

Happy with the status of my two pressing projects, I walked into my office off the gallery floor and sat at my desk.

Today had been unexpected. I wished I could pick up the phone and tell my mother or grandmother that they'd been right, and Miranda had found her way back to us, but I was the last of our family remaining.

Glancing at the last picture we'd taken together strictly by chance.

My family had been marked by two things: tragedy and success. The photo had been taken the day that I graduated from Columbia with my art conservation degree and was about to go on a trip around the world to view and experience the greatest artworks ever made.

I'd just landed in London, when I turned my phone and got the message from a NYPD detective that my mother had been killed and grandmother had been passed. It was another three days before I would be able to listen to the rest of the message after getting off that plane and on the first one back to New York.

A robbery next door had turned violent and stray bullets pierced the thin walls of our three-bedroom apartment and my mother had been hit. My grandmother having a heart attack due to the panic was a fluke, or so the fresh-faced detective had told me.

I stayed in New York another two weeks in order to add the remaining family to our family plot and giving the temporary manager of the shop all the access codes.

Once I was back on that plane, I was lost to a world of art and fashion. Learning everything I could about my family and our heritage. Upon returning to New York some two years later, I was 23 and had deeper understanding of myself.

Having been away for so long, coming home felt like a welcoming. The first stop was to the cemetery and the second was to the warehouse.

Renin, my temporary manager, thought I was ghost at first, then promptly advised me of the pending projects and went on vacation. It still made me laugh to think about it.

Ever since I got back, I threw myself into one project after another. There was only Renin left of what was affectionately known as the "Old Guard". The photo right next to the one at graduation is of Renin and I right before she went on vacation.

She had gone on her own soul-searching exploration, though she stopped back into town more often than I did.

Pulling myself out of my musing, I sent a quick update to the London museum with the progress update and created the new client folder for Mr. Kipling and added the addendum that it was a Runway order.

I'd just filed the new file when the timer went off and I made my way back up to the third floor and put on a fresh set of gloves.

Grabbing my magnifying glasses, I put them on and began to inspect the back of dress. Smiling at the complete removal of the stain, I gently turned it over to the front and found that the bottom and sleeve were clean as well.

Turning on the tap, I used the spray nozzle to remove the powder from both sides of the gourmet. Once I was certain everything was removed, I hit the button and the bay started to fill up with water. Moving over to my shelf, I grabbed a medium grade soap and moved back to the suite. I dropped the tablet into the water and waited for the bubbles to show it had activated correctly.

Pushing another button, the clothing track began to descend into the sink for the first set of cleanings to remove all the solutions. After making sure the dress was fully submerged, I pulled off the gloves and began the process of shutting down for the night.

Ensuring the lights were off, I set an alarm on my phone so that I could come back in 6 hours and change the water again. Locking the front door, I moved deeper into the warehouse and into a converted entryway that I had built to connect this warehouse with the one next door that I had renovated into my house upon getting back stateside.

Making my way up to my second floor, I was greeted by my cat sitting on top of her scratch post.

"Hello, Alice." I greeted as I moved into my closet. Before I could do more than kick off my shoes, my phone rang.

I didn't recognize the number, but I answered and said, "Hello?"

"Andrea." the voice that had been tormenting me mentally all day said.

"Miranda.'' I stated.


End file.
